


Affirmation

by ilovejared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Dean Winchester, Valentine's Day, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17025957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovejared/pseuds/ilovejared
Summary: Valentine's Day sucks. Until it doesn't.





	Affirmation

You step into the bar and it’s just like one of a thousand bars that you’ve stopped at, got drunk in and tried to forget this nightmare called life for a few hours. It smells like a thousand other bars in a thousand other small towns. It smells of stale beer and cigarettes. Desperation and regret.

It’s dark and smoky and the floor is sticky and it’s definitely not the place you expect find your little brother. Or maybe it is.

It’s only been three months since you pulled him from the flames engulfing his pretty little suburban apartment. The flames that consumed his dreams of a normal life. The flames that consumed arms that had held him and lips that had spoke of love and hope just as they had consumed the woman who had given him life twenty-two years ago.

You’ve only had him back three months and it’s been hard on both of you. Hard on him because he’s hurting. He’s drowning and you don’t how to reach him. Words have never been your strong point and what words are going to soothe this pain? Because he’s drowning in loss and guilt and you don’t know how to help him and it’s not fair that he has to go through this. Go through losing his sweet, pretty girlfriend the same way the both of you lost your mother.

And it’s Valentine’s Day and last night as you lay in the dark in your twin beds you listened to him speak of this day last year when Jess cooked him lasagna for dinner and he had brought her wildflowers and her favorite bottle of wine and then he had choked back tears and whispered, “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry.”

And you didn’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. It’s not like you were going to tell him about your last Valentine’s Day when you got drunk and picked up a tall girl with short brown hair and eyes that were neither blue nor green. You’re not going to tell him that you fucked her from behind so you could pretend she was someone else(you, Sammy, always you) and you didn’t even remember her name because it wasn’t her name on your lips when you came.

Valentine’s Day sucks.

The text came(I need u. Bar down the street) and you were out the door feeling angry that he had had left without telling you where he was going and desperate relief that the message had come at all. And you hate that part of you that is hoping that he does need you, only you, like he used to need you. Before there were harsh words and a gulf between the two of you that had never been there before. A gulf neither of you knew how to bridge. And the gulf turned into a hole where your heart used to be and no amount of hunting or drinking or fucking could fill the empty space that could only be filled by him.

Once through the door, you don’t have any difficulty spotting him. He’s taller than anyone else in the place, even though he’s hunched over one hand in his jeans pocket and one wrapped around a beer, unconsciously trying to make himself appear smaller.

He looks sad and lonely and your heart breaks a little more for the beautiful boy who, along with yourself, has been cursed to love and lose.

The one he loved is a memory but your love is vital and alive and vulnerable and needing solace, needing you and there’s a hateful part of you that is happy that you have him back no matter what the price. No matter who was hurt.

You’re going to burn in hell one day.

Then the music stops and the little crowd of dancers shuffles back to their stools and you see more clearly the reason he looks so uncomfortable.

There’s a girl who’s looking up at him, a flirtatious smile on her full red lips, one hand lightly caressing his chest and you can tell from across the room that she wants to take him home and devour him and that’s not going to happen because you’re here now and he is yours.

Dammit, he’s yours.

She doesn’t see you coming. She’s too intent on Sam(yours). Too intent on pressing her curvacious body up against him and all you see is your Sam(your Sammy) trying to slide away from her roving hand on his thigh and her lips pressed to his ear.

Sam looks up and sees you and all of the tension drains out of his body and his relief is palpable as you sidle up next to him and put your arm around his shoulders.

“Hey there, Sammy. Sorry I’m late.” It feels good when he leans against you, allowing you to support him.

The girl sends an angry look your way but one look in your eyes and she backs away.

The message is clear as if you had screamed it aloud for all to hear.

Back off. Mine.

Sam doesn’t give her another thought as he turns his full attention to you. He’s drunk but not that drunk and you wonder again at the wording of his text.

Taking the warm beer from his hands, you set in on the bar before reaching up to brush back the the sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead.

“Can’t handle the wildlife on your own, Sammy?” You mean it to sound light but he knows what you’re asking and he shakes his head.

He rests his hands on your shoulders bringing you full against him and the intensity in his gaze takes your breath away.

“I need you, Dean. I’ve always needed you even when I was with her and that makes her death even worse, somehow.” His lips are so close to yours, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, and you don’t care that it’s only been three months that you’ve had him back.

The years without him had to be a century or more.

All you can think, all you can breathe is one word. “Sammy….”

“It’s okay, Dean. I’m the one who has to learn to live with that.”

And he covers your mouth with his and he tastes like cheap beer and chapstick and home. You’re kissing your little brother in the middle of some redneck bar in some small town in Oklahoma and you don’t care, don’t care as long as he doesn’t stop.

When he does, you look in his eyes and there’s guilt but hasn’t that always been there?

What gives you hope is the love that’s there, still there, despite everything.

And what you’ve always known still holds true.

Your heart has never belonged to anyone else. No one else will ever have the power to break your heart.

Only Sam.

You realize that it’s comforting to know exactly who it is that holds the power to give you the greatest joy or cause you the greatest pain.

His hands come up to cup your face and his lips are like a brand against yours, hot and wet and you’re happy, right here in this moment.

When he whispers in your ear, “I’ve missed you, missed us”, you think, maybe, he’s happy too.


End file.
